


The Warmth of the Sun

by Maeryn_skye



Series: The Sun and the Moon [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angry Greg, Broken John, Confrontation, Depression, M/M, Shower Sex, Sympathetic Greg And Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 14:14:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4140816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeryn_skye/pseuds/Maeryn_skye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This immediately follows "Dreaming Someone Else's Dream". Basically the same night, just seen from Greg and Sherlock's perspective. John keeps pulling farther and farther away from them and neither man can figure out how to reach him. After John is a no-show yet again for an evening at Baker Street, Greg has finally had enough and goes to confront John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Warmth of the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I apologize for this taking so long. Too many possible scenarios have been bouncing around in my head and I couldn't decide which one I wanted to use. Just a brief note to explain both the titles of the series, this chapter and the up-coming chapter. Despite the fact that Greg calls Sherlock "Sunshine", I tend to see them differently. To me, Sherlock is the Moon - pale, beautiful, ethereal and slightly unknowable. Greg is the Sun - warm, down to earth, real and life-giving.

Greg and Sherlock both stood staring at the door John had just walked out of. Greg's heart clinched up when he heard the lower door close. "No," he said softly. 

In an equally soft voice, Sherlock asked "No?"

"No. It's not right. It breaks my heart to see him leave like that. John Watson belongs here, at Baker Street, as much as you or I or Mrs. Hudson. Doesn't it bother you?"

"You know it does, Greg. It shatters me every time. But it's John. And John Watson is quite possibly the most stubborn human being in existence. I seriously doubt that there is anything either of us could say or do that would change his mind. He honestly believes that he doesn't belong here any more and I have no idea how to convince him otherwise."

The helplessness in Sherlock's last sentence finished breaking Greg's heart the rest of the way. He went over and wrapped his arms around his lover. "We'll figure something out, Sunshine. I promise,"

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Three weeks later things had gotten worse instead of better. Sherlock and Greg knew what was wrong with John, they just had no idea how to help him. The more they tried to include him in their lives, the more he pulled away. Sherlock knew that John hated to be pitied more than anything in the world and he was sure that that was what John thought they were doing now - pitying him and trying to include him in their affairs so he wouldn't be so alone. John either couldn't or wouldn't understand that both Sherlock and Greg loved him dearly and missed his friendship. They kept in contact with him because they wanted to, not out of a sense of duty. It hurt Sherlock much more deeply than he would have ever imagined it could to see John slipping farther and farther away from him. 

Greg frowned as he watched Sherlock looking out the window. John had promised to come by for dinner that night, but three hours later, there was still no John, no phone call, no text, nothing. It wasn't the first time in the last several weeks that John had stood them up, but it was the first time he hadn't contacted them with an excuse. Greg's frown deepened as he saw what an effect it was having on Sherlock. 

"He's not coming, is he?" Sherlock's voice was small, quiet, almost childlike. 

"Doesn't look like it, Sunshine." The sadness in Sherlock's eyes as he turned away from the window broke something inside Greg. He was suddenly overwhelmed by anger. "You stay here. Take a shower, go to bed, do an experiment, clean out your mind palace, whatever. Just stay here. I'm going to go take care of this bullshit once and for all."

"Greg, what ..."

"Stay." Greg grabbed his coat and headed out the door, determined to bring John Watson to his senses or die trying.

Ten minutes later he was standing in front of John's flat, mercilessly pounding on the door. "John, I know you're in there! Now open the fucking door! I'm a cop, remember? I can and will break it down if I have to. We have to talk. Now OPEN. THE. GODDAMN. DOOR!"

Greg breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the lock click and the door slowly opened. "What do you want, Greg? Why are you here?"

The older man pushed John back into the flat, then closed and locked the door. When he finally took a moment to look at John, he was stunned and appalled at what he saw. John looked like he had lost at least 10 pounds, possibly more. His eyes were bloodshot with huge black shadows beneath them. He hadn't shaved in at least a couple days. "Jesus, John. What in the holy hell is wrong with you? You look like shit."

"Ta," John replied. For a moment, a tiny bit of the old John Watson sarcasm showed through, but it was quickly overcome by a look of pure exhaustion. "Again, why are you here?"

"I'm here because I'm sick of you being a bloody blind, selfish, stubborn bastard, that's why. Now SIT." Greg pointed a finger at the couch and was gratified -and more than a little worried - to see John sink down on it without a word of argument. "I'm going to go fix you something to eat, you're going to eat it and then we're going to talk. Rather, I'm going to talk and you're going to listen. Understood?"

Greg went into John's kitchen and began scrounging around trying to find something to cook that John might eat. He found some eggs, still relatively fresh if the date on the container was accurate, some cheese, half an onion and a bit of a bell pepper. Luckily, omlette-making was something Greg excelled at and within minutes, he had a lovely, fluffy omlette laid out on a plate with a slice of toast. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and set everything down on the table, then went to retrieve John. 

"Sit and eat, John. Slowly." His anger was slowly fading away, being replaced by frantic concern for the other man. He shook his head and whispered softly "Why are you doing this?"

"You still haven't answered my question, Greg. Why are you here?"

Greg shook his head again. "You really have no idea, do you?"

A tiny bit of fire sprang into John's eyes. "I know that you and Sherlock are happy together. I know that he's happier than I've ever seen him ... happier than I was ever able to make him ..."

Greg's anger suddenly roared back to life. "No, you don't fucking know that! You don't know anything about Sherlock because you haven't seen him in almost a month. He's _not_ happy, John! He's not happy at all. And it's your fault. I don't know what's been going on in that head of yours, but you need to get over it right fucking now! I've had enough of your 'poor pitiful me, no one loves me, I'm all alone' bullshit." Greg was thrilled to see a flash of anger in the blue eyes across the table. An angry John Watson was a terrifying thing, but an infinite improvement over the empty shell that had answered the door. 

"I know how much you love Sherlock, John. That's why it's pissing me off so much to see you doing this to him. Don't you get it? You're breaking his fucking heart! Every time you don't show up, every time you avoid our calls ... it's tearing him apart! You should have seen his eyes tonight, John. He stood by the window for over two hours waiting for you. The way his eyes looked when he realized you weren't coming _again_ \- God, I hated you more in that moment than I've ever hated another human being. And the worst part of it is, you're breaking my heart too. You think that we feel sorry for you, that we pity you, but you couldn't be farther from the truth, John. We both love you. We both miss you. It has nothing at all to do with feeling sorry for you. We want you back. Back in our lives, back at Baker Street, back to the old John Watson."

As John stared at Greg, he could feel the walls he had spent so long building beginning to crumble. Long resisted tears stung his eyes while his heart and his brain raged an awesome battle. He wanted desperately to believe that Greg meant what he said the way John had wanted him to mean it, but he just couldn't dare let himself hope. The hope and pain and doubt Greg saw warring in John's eyes broke his heart all over again. He stood and walked around the table to John, gently placed his hands on John's elbows and raised him to his feet. 

"John Watson, you are either a bigger idiot than even Sherlock suspected or I've not made myself clear." He lifted his hands and gently cradled John's face before moving in for a soft kiss. "We _love_ you, John. Why can't you understand that? Just because Sherlock and I are in love with each other doesn't change the fact that we're both in love with you too. I meant what I said. We want you in our lives, in our home and in our bed. Please."

"You mean it, don't you? You really want me ... " Tears choked off the rest of what John was trying to say.

Greg bent down and kissed John again, delighting in the fact that John responded with considerably more enthusiasm than last time. "Now that you're fed, let's get you cleaned up and then pack some clothes. It's time for you to come home. "

Greg turned on the shower and adjusted the water temperature while John undressed. When he turned around, he realized that John was looking at him shyly. "Will you ..." John waved a hand in the direction of the shower.

"I'd love to, mate, if you're sure it's what you want right now. "

An honest to God smirk crossed John's face. "Believe me, Greg, right now there's nothing in the world I want more."

This time it was John that initiated the kiss and Greg was left gasping for air. Greg had always assumed that the smaller man would be an excellent lover - after all, stories do get around, no matter how old - but to be suddenly caught up in the full force of a turned on, slightly desperate John Watson was rather like being in the middle of a hurricane. Greg quickly gave up all control and decided to just enjoy the ride. And dear God, was it ever enjoyable! Somehow, John had managed to get the two of them into the shower without letting any space open up between their bodies, his tongue doing things to Greg's mouth that Greg was pretty sure he should arrest him for. 

Once they were safely in the shower - two horny middle- aged men trying to get into a slippery, steamy shower without using their hands or eyes was probably not the best idea - John forced Greg up against the wall, pressing the length of his body against Greg's and growled, "Gonna suck you off now, Greg. Can't wait any more. Need to feel your cock in my mouth ..." He immediately suited action to word and dropped to his knees, enveloping Greg's length in one motion and devouring him.

"Jesus! Oh, Jesus God ... John ... " Greg was moaning frantically, his brain shut down except for the thought that if John didn't stop now ... like, right _fucking NOW_ ...this was all going to be over way too soon. "John... Jesus, John, stop! I can't ... please ... please ... I ..." Then suddenly, it was too late and Greg was coming down John's throat with great gasping cries. John swallowed every last drop and licked Greg clean before standing up again.

Greg looked at him a bit sheepishly. "Jesus, John ... that was ... I'm sorry I ..."

John silenced him with a finger to his lips and pressed his lips to Greg's ear. "I've been wanting to do that forever." John pressed his own erection into Greg's hip as he continued whispering in Greg's ear. "You've got the most amazing cock. I knew you would. Want more. I wanna suck your cock ... uhhh ... Greg ... please ...."

Greg's brain finally came back online long enough to realize that John was frantically humping his hip and a little help would probably be appreciated. He reached down and began stroking John's impressive length with his right hand while fondling his tight balls with his left. John whimpered and collapsed against the wall. "God yes, Greg... please ... more... just a tiny bit ... so close... so, so close..."

Greg leaned down and licked John's earlobe then growled, "Come for me, John. Right now. Let me see you ...." With a hoarse, desperate shout, John came hard, pulse after pulse after pulse of warm come covering Greg's hand and stomach as well as John's own. "Jesus. That was amazing, John. Never would have expected you to be such a one for talking dirty, but fuck ... I think you melted my brain!"

John laughed weakly, still trying to catch his breath. "Don't forget, I was in the army, Greg." He leaned forward at the waist and took a few deep breaths. When he stood back up, the teasing look on his face had been replaced by a much more sombre one. "So. What happens now?"

Greg kissed the tip of John's nose and smiled. "What happens next is this. We both get cleaned up," He placed a gentle kiss on John's lips. "We get dressed," Kiss. "We pack you some clothes," Kiss. "Then we go home to Sherlock and you make love to him all night." Kiss.

John looked up, the questions showing clear in his eyes. "Yes, John. It's what he wants. It's what he's wanted since the beginning, it just took him a while to work it out. And no, I won't be joining. You and Sherlock need tonight to be about each other. The three of us will have plenty of time later on. Tonight belongs to the two of you."


End file.
